


Such Sins at My Back

by scarletrebel



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: In Victorian London, a man starts his Gambit. Unaware of players and pieces, his luck shows itself as a familiar face is sent to shake him down.Instead, he shares a token of information.





	Such Sins at My Back

**Author's Note:**

> more victorian au! @mrpinstripesuit added in drifter to this whole affair, and i found this a couple of days ago and dressed it up all fancy for posting! 
> 
> i'd recommend reading [this little piece](https://pinstripe-s.tumblr.com/post/184623855108/as-she-climbs-the-stairs-to-griers-apartment-she) pin did to get a good idea of certain references, but its not a requirement! I hope you all enjoy!

“So, ‘Drifter’ stuck, then?”

The man below her jumps and swings around, brandishing a pistol. The click of the chamber echoes around them, and all she offers in response is a raised eyebrow from where she sits atop a stack of crates.

Drifter lowers the gun, putting a hand on his chest and breathing dramatically. “I coulda blown your head clean off, sister.”

“Sure,” Avia taps her heel against the box. “And I’m not sitting on top of a stack of glimmer that isn’t yours.”

He glares at her, huffily putting his gun (his _Trust_ , he had told her through a grin the first time they met) back in the front of his waistband. “If it aint yers, why do you care?”

She jumps down, landing softly in front of him and drawing herself up with all the grace of a feline. “It isn’t mine. It’s the Sov’s.”

Drifter’s fingers twitch. He breaks her gaze to look into the lining of her open waistcoat, where her dagger sits unassuming against her ribs. He laughs. “Not all of it.”

“It’s enough, Drifter.” Her tone takes on a softer tilt, pleading almost. Still, Drifter can’t ignore the way she says his new name again, as though still testing its weight on her tongue.

“Enough for them to want it back?”

“They don’t want it back.”

The air hangs terse, silent. Somewhere in the underground levels of the labyrinth warehouse, his Derelict, a primeval roars. The candles against the walls flicker, a carriage outside bounces harshly against the cobbles.

“Heh. They want you to rough up ol’ Drifter, huh?”

“Something like that.” Her arms hang almost paralyzed by her side.

Drifter’s eye catches her weapon again, the harsh orange of what little light is cast over them bouncing off of the metal. He regards her curiously, dark eyes fascinated. “What’s stoppin’ ya?” He rasps.

Avia huffs then, mouth drawn up into a line. “I don’t want to.” She spits, almost as if annoyed at him personally for her dilemma.

He quirks an eyebrow. “That aint gonna go down well with old queenie, right?”

“It just _had_ to be them, didn’t it?” And she steps forward, forcing him back in surprise. Her brown eyes are furious, and he can see droplets in the lighter hair from the rain outside. “Of all the people to steal from Drifter, you went for the _Awoken?_ ”

“Hey, wasn’t me personally!” He puts his hands up. “You have any idea the manpower it takes to run Gambit? I got people doing that for me, go whale on them!”

“ _You_ told them to, you run this operation. That’s how this works.”

Drifter opens his mouth to argue, closes it. His tone is laced in uncertainty as the words fall from his lips. “Ah… Well, if that’s the way it is…”

Avia latches on, hooks in and steps forward again. “You didn’t give the order?”

“Nah not _technically,_ it was the uh… Folks I… Work with.”

“Drifter.”

“Alright, just because you go ‘round as an attack dog for the Awoken, doesn’t mean we all gotta spill the beans on who we’re working for.”

“It’s the difference in the order I or anyone else gets when it comes to you.” Avia pushes again, and he steps back into candlelight. Her eyes trace down his front, small patches of blood against the white of his shirt near his stomach make themselves known.

She can’t help the smile. “Sometimes I think you tear those stitches just to have an excuse to go back to him.”

Drifter frowns, then meets her eyes, something more desperate and open in their honesty as the light between them flickers back and forth.

“God dammit,” he mumbles, grumbling further a litany of curses as he digs around in the pockets of his duster. She doesn’t have time to wonder what he’s looking for when a coin is flipped at her, the gentle _ting_ the only warning she gets. As it flips towards her, she expects the smooth oblong surface of one of his jade coins. Instead, when it lands in her hand, the thing is circular, heavy, and strangely warm to the touch.

She runs her thumb over the sphere in the middle. Onyx, as black as the night, circled by gold and emerald.

“To be honest, I’ll be surprised if the Queen doesn’t already know about ‘em. _But_ , play the fool and you’ll be right, sister. From what I hear she’s keeping enough secrets from her own people to pay what you know any mind.”

“Who are they?” Avia whispers, still staring at the coin.

“Ghosts. Everywhere and nowhere, the usual crap.”

“What do they want?”

Drifter shrugs, feeling worry creep up his stomach at the way her eyes are entranced. “I think they’re curious.”

“About us?”

He takes the last couple of steps towards her. Gently, he places a hand on her wrist, the other closes her fingers around the coin.

She looks up, slack expression blinking away. Then she frowns and pulls her hand out of his, pocketing the coin. “This is who you’ve been working for?”

“In a sense. They keep Gambit afloat, that’s for sure.”

“And they’re the ones who brought you the glimmer?”

“Yes ma’am,” he moves to brace an arm against another stack of crates, leaning. “That side of things is all their people.”

“Good. Maybe the Awoken got hit somewhere and haven’t figured out who it was yet, could explain how it ended up here.”

Drifter grunts. “That mean I get to keep my pretty face?”

“This time,” she pairs the comment with a smile, despite herself. And then, impertinently adds, “it won’t always be me, you know.”

Drifter looks down at that, and Avia didn’t catch when he pulled out one of his coins and started flicking it between knuckles. “Guess I got lucky.”

“This time.” She repeats. “Do what you can to stay out of the Awoken’s way, alright? I don’t want to get an earful from Grier if someone does mess up your ‘pretty face’.”

“More than them that’s gunning for that, sister.”

“Good god, I complimented you and kept your bones intact, and you can’t even say thank you?”

“Could say the same for you! Tsk, ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful.” She mutters back, rolling her eyes and turning away. She makes it to the massive steel doors before Drifter calls her name. She turns, and the look on his face is one of a guarded wariness, an inner conflict.

Eventually, he points a coin at her. “You hear about some ‘Emissary’? Girl by the name of Orin? You stay the hell away from her, ya hear? Don’t trust a word that comes out her mouth.”

Avia lifts an eyebrow. At her lack of response, he flicks the coin towards her and she catches it. And this is how they make their promises, she realises with a heavy heart. This small coin is the weight of sins and mistakes and words that catch in the throat of liars. _Do this for me, keep yourself safe. You don’t know them like I do_. An unspoken language, the only one either of them were taught.

Her sigh is heavy, head down. “Yeah, fine. I’ll do my best.”

She heaves open the door, settling the jade coin next to the strange coin in her pocket and dips her head as she pulls the door closed again.

Alone in the warehouse, Drifter’s gaze lingers on where she was. He huffs, mutters to himself. “Better do.”  

 


End file.
